CHIAROSCURO
by IsabelClare
Summary: Secrets and shame reunite two sisters; will they find the strength to rise against the winds of fate?
1. Chapter 1

** CHIAROSCURO **

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the Shadow

_For Thine is the Kingdom_

-TS Eliot

**PROLOGUE : PART 1**

The dictates of Mother Celestine demanded of Carreen O'Hara the creation of a persona at once stoic and profoundly devout, a divine sleight of hand that would make the complexities of the plantation born and bred miss's life appear simple. Despite appearances, though, neither Carreen nor her nom de plume, Sister Caroline Irene, ever tried to make things simple for themselves. Indeed, in the view of her mother Ellen, a living, breathing saint if there ever has been one, simplification of one's life is tantamount to a kind of lazy immorality, and Carreen desperately desired to live out her days in accordance with her mother's morals. What little Carreen said, or felt, or did, resonated with all that she did not say, did not feel, and most especially, did not do. The simplicity of her new life in the Sisters of Mercy was merely apparent and in all manners of speaking, paradoxical.

Naturally, Carreen was forced to acknowledge employing her upbringing to her advantage: her Charleston Robillard connections still counted for as much inside the convent walls as outside them, despite the fact that she had renounced all of her worldly goods. She deemed the soft whispers of her mother far more suitable for study than the loud, gravelly voice of Mother Moran, who oversaw the novitiates and informed Sister Caroline Irene that she could not understand her and that she needed to speak more clearly. So, Careen spoke more clearly, although her words came out in short, precise replies. The other Sisters regarded Sister Caroline Irene as ostensibly lacking consciousness - she was clearly only half-hearted in her new vocation, they deigned! She possessed, at the very least, a natural modesty that served as an anecdote to any misplaced sense of pride, which served her well.

But underneath the veneer of subordinate Sister lurked a far tougher core: her sisters, those related to her by blood rather than the religious order had pointed the way. And they might have found it rather ironic that their sweet, subdued sister could have been in the situation in which she now found herself. It had been a mistake of her own rendering, she saw that much now. It was the same story she had always read, the makings of which might have come out of one of her novels, secretly stowed underneath her pillow some ten years before. As tends to happen in life outside of the novella, there was a less…romantic outcome.

When Carreen had met Andrew Deneau in the dark confines of the prison on her ministerial tour of duty in her final novitiate year, she had immediately sensed a certain intelligible earnestness in the man, who had been incarcerated for three years for a crime he would not discuss with her. Poorly educated and a heavy Creole accent might perhaps be effective in describing her immediate impression - although she quickly found fault in her hasty judgment and attempted to more effectively listen to what Deneau said and how he said it.

For instance, Deneau observed through his gritted teeth: Elle etait avec sa Bible." As usual, Carreen did have her Bible. Although its contents meant very little to the man to whom she was to offer charity, she had brought the Bible to read to him. His response, for instance, to her reading from the Gospel of Saint John, was that Christ offered no resistance to His execution, and therefore, must have contributed to His own demise. She didn't bother to correct him; she merely continued to read. And he listened, quietly. It was at some point during the six months that she made her daily pilgrimage to the prison that she realized the straightforward sentences were a window in Deneau's eyes, and as he saw things, she was worth just as much to him as a wife or a lover…no small thing to a girl of twenty, who had only had one beau in all her dull, colorless life after the war. Brent Tarleton had been her whole existence for as long as she could remember, the sole flicker of brightness in her young life, always overshadowed by her sisters, pretty, vivacious Scarlett, and catty, demanding Suellen.

Finally, she told Deneau about Brent, a direct response to his impudent but repeated question of why, why did she become a nun?

She had told him that two theological terms were appropriate attributes for her fallen beau, and that they could only be applied posthumously: hero and martyr. One described how Brent Tarleton had lived, the other, how he died. As such, she was compelled to honor not only God, but Brent as well, by submitting herself into His service.

And when she told him, he had replied with an eloquence that even her beloved had not possessed: "Ma belle, such …peculiarities of perception, oui?"

"What do you mean by that?" she had responded in French.

"Increments of character…" he replied in English. "You 'ave, two faces."

"Oui."

"But you choose to strip yourself of liberty?"

"Oui. In service of something greater than myself."

"You are…unconventional…Sister Caroline Irene."

"I suppose I am to take that as a complement, Monsieur Deneau?"

"Oui. Startlingly original."

In the second half of her second novitiate year, Carreen had allowed herself freer rein when alone with Deneau, even to the point of giving herself over to an experience which she counted hers alone - it went beyond sensation, beyond memory - it was the result of unsatisfied desire on her end and a kind of understanding on his. Although there were fundamental differences between the two of them, there was born some impossible sense of fidelity, and under his breath, she heard him whisper: "Je t'aime." I love you.

And for a period, Andrew Deneau constituted all of Carreen's sensibility, in a way in which Brent Tarleton never could have, even at the height of her excitement over his curious new feelings for her after her sister Scarlett had married another man right under his nose. But as with all things, her novitiate year passed, and she was returned to the motherhouse to make her temporary profession of vows, and she thought never to see Andrew Deneau again.

In August of 1873, she was called to Mother Celestine's office to receive a telegram, thankfully unopened by the Superior. "An audience, s'il vous plais? Regards, A. Deneau."

When Sister Bernadette had walked with her to the receiving room, Carreen had lingered at the door, distracted as she was by the gentleman seated in the high-backed wooden chair. His black hair was immaculately clipped and his prison beard had been shaved off. His bronzed skin was set off by the perfectly starched white shirt and black tie. When the other Sister shut the door, nodding with understanding and, Carreen knew, began standing guard on the other side, Deneau looked at her with his clear eyes and shook her hand, holding it so long she didn't think that he'd ever let go - not that she wanted him to do so.

"You are going through with it?" he asked, indicating her habit, which had attained an additional layer of cloth and a fuller, longer veil since he had seen her last - the other had been so very easy to remove…

She thought that he was criticizing her for her choice, and started to defend herself, although he quickly cut her off.

"You do not have to justify yourself to me, Carreen. The truth is, you are happier here."

"I am," she said, not convincing even herself.

Then, he had pressed himself against her, putting his lips on hers. Her eyes were stinging with bitter tears of longing, desire for his touch. They moved in unison, him holding her about the waist as the layers of fabric came off, revealing her petal soft skin -

"Like a flower," he whispered, lips traveling down her bare flesh.

She was glistening with sweat as she let her hair come down in waves - she could feel the heat from his body pressing down on her as he asked for her permission. And she nodded, gritting her teeth as she strained every nerve in her body - knowing that the moment had to end, that he had to walk away after he was finished.

He stood there, motionless, as though the very world had closed in around them. The dazzling red glare of the sun from the window overcame the room, and she turned to dress herself, stealing a peek at his hard, manly form, knowing that it would be the last time she would allow herself the pleasure of the flesh.

He tried to ask her to leave with him, although he could not altogether form the words. He did not look her in the eyes after she had replaced her habit and veil, unable to face Sister Caroline Irene.

And Carreen knew that Sister Caroline Irene had a decision to make, although it did not take her long to reach it. To stay or go amounted to the same thing. A minute passed, and she turned her back on Andrew Deneau and walked through the door, where Sister Bernadette was waiting on the other side…

There were some things that Carreen had never been particularly comfortable about discussing with her Mother, when she had been alive: religion, for one, although they would have largely agreed on such matters; wifely duties for another, something that would have been inevitable before the war but was unnecessary due to her youthful age and Brent's sudden death at the Battle of Gettysburg. But Carreen did know herself, and the bodily changes which occurred at a certain time each month - and when they did not occur.

She had never felt more reluctant in her life, reluctant to dress or to eat or to walk down the stairs to attend morning prayer. She had the choice, of course, to leave the convent - she had not taken final vows and she could rescind her temporary profession without any penalty. But to what end? To say that she had fallen in love would be no shame, would she only have chosen a more worthy candidate. A penniless ex-con. The idea of a Robillard married to such a person was laughable - for if one did not laugh, one would weep at the shame. She felt that she was hardly in the convent during those first three months - as though Sister Caroline Irene had gone on a permanent leave of absence until further notice and Carreen had been left in her stead. And the truth was, Carreen had very little idea of who Carreen O'Hara actually was - and at the moment, her life in Christ was at a permanent standstill until she determined a solution. And her solution was waiting for something to happen.

She studied her middle during Mass, and noticed only a slight bulge when she moved a certain way, easily covered by her habit. Her breasts though, were another story, and she was going to begin showing a considerable weight gain before long.

It was only after she received the letter from her sister that she began to formulate any sort of plan in her mind. A very short letter from her oldest sister, Scarlett:

_ Dear Sweet Carreen,_

_ I wanted to pass along the sad news of our dear Melanie's passing. I have no doubt that she is safely in Heaven with Pa and Mother and Charles and all our little brothers, but I know you will want to know and say a rosary for her. If you would, Sister, say one for me, too. You must have heard from Suellen of my precious Bonnie's accident, and how much her father and I miss her - how much we have grieved and still continue to grieve for her. Sue might also have told you about difficulties between Captain Butler and myself - that situation is what it is, and this is my hope for you, sweet Carreen - Mrs. Eleanor Butler, Rhett's mother, is a very dear friend of our Aunt Pauline, who I know you visit often. Would you be agreeable to calling on Auntie, and extending the invitation to Miss Eleanor as well? I would be ever so grateful to know where Rhett is staying, and if he is well and if he thinks of me - Perhaps I could even make a visit myself; that is, if I am welcomed. Under the circumstances, I'm terribly afraid that I wouldn't be. But if I did come, I would be very glad to have my sister with me. With love, I remain your sister, Scarlett_

Oh Scarlett. For a full second, Carreen was annoyed - but then she reread the letter. It was Scarlett unguarded, vague, seeking her help in the sensitive matter of her marriage. Perhaps, if she helped her sister in that, her sister in turn might help her to escape her own predicament. With Scarlett's money, she could disappear to Europe for a few months with no one the wiser, invent a husband and call herself a widow when she returned with a child. It was nothing short of divine - she hastily crossed herself and looked heavenward, knowing that the situation was anything but divinely inspired. But surely, she reminded herself, the God she knew and loved would in His infinite mercy take pity on her for her weakness.

If she could only orchestrate the events more quickly - hastily, she penned a note to her Aunt Pauline and had one of the little colored girls who cleaned the kitchen at the motherhouse to deliver it. The girl returned in under twenty minutes with her Aunt's enthusiastic reply, that she was ever so happy, that she thought that Sister Caroline Irene had been avoiding her, that she must join her and Mrs. Eleanor Butler for tea the very next day, and best of all, that she must meet Scarlett's husband, the elusive Captain Butler, who was staying at his mother's house…

Carreen adjusted her habit as she walked the cobblestone street the two blocks to her Aunt's townhouse - her undergarment had gotten slightly tight around the middle and she was weary about letting it out so very soon. Surely she could not be carrying more than one babe, she prayed inwardly as she rolled her eyes, stomach heaving. Her symptoms had not been especially bothersome, praise be to God - when Scarlett had been carrying her nephew Wade Hampton, she had been unable to keep anything down in the first few months of her pregnancy.

Scarlett's husband was standing in the foyer when the door flew open, and although Aunt Pauline wrapped her frail arms around Carreen's neck, Rhett Butler was the first person whose face she saw as she entered. For a moment, she thought that it might have been Andrew Deneau she was seeing, albeit an older, heavier version. But there were distinct differences between the two men, aside from the obvious one of age and class. Butler emanated wealth and privilege; indeed, Scarlett had always married men of means, and the Butlers were nothing if not the oldest, best pedigreed people in Charleston. He had dark hair and a moustache, speckled with grey, full, firm lips and a strong chin. He stared at her for several minutes, not speaking as Aunt Pauline introduced around the room, first Mrs. Eleanor, the diminutive Butler matriarch, then Miss Rosemary, the beautiful, unmarried sister, and finally Captain Butler himself, husband of "our dear Scarlett."

Carreen caught the pained look that crossed Rhett Butler's face, however brief it was. She assumed that he would want to do very little talking with her, but to her surprise, he spoke briefly to all of them about his plans to open an office in Paris, which would handle all of his business with various companies both at home and abroad, and how they all felt about it.

Miss Rosemary smiled at the prospect of living with him in Paris. "In the event that you need a hostess," she said snidely.

And Carreen replied demurely, seeing very quickly that Miss Rosemary was the sort of person who sought happiness by tearing down that of others and despising her for it. "Surely it is my sister's place, to accompany her husband."

Her sister's husband seemed unable to glean whether or not she was wise to his marital difficulties or not. Clearly his sister was, but Carreen wasn't certain about Mrs. Butler, who spoke lovingly of Scarlett.

"It seems," he said in his low, musical voice, "that life in Paris might not appeal to Scarlett, Sister."

Carreen smiled sweetly, "You must call me Carreen, Captain Butler, since we are family, after all."

He raised an eyebrow, "You must return the favor then, _Carreen_, and call me Rhett."

She nodded. "Very well, Rhett. And I must disagree with you. I think that Scarlett would rather welcome a change, as life with one's husband is as fine in one city as it is another."

His mouth thinned into a line. She might have gone too far with that last. He would see that she clearly knew now. He looked slightly unnerved, and inquired about her own situation in Charleston. Aha, she thought! Another barbed remark, insinuating that she was a failure for retreating to the convent rather than facing life outside of it. Marriage and children, after all were lost to her…Ha! If the scoundrel only knew what lurked underneath her demure little habit.

"No, Rhett, I am not dissatisfied with my life here in the slightest."

She was slightly sorry to have upset him, for she seemed to genuinely do so with her straightforward manner of speaking. He's thinking that I remind him of Scarlett, she smarted to herself. And he did continue to stare at her for the rest of the afternoon…

That night, she sat cross-legged on her small bed and said her rosary before taking a ritual account of her body, if only to ascertain that her condition wasn't too noticeable yet, should one of the other sisters disturb her during the night. And then she wrote to Scarlett a very short message, which she would wire in the morning via the Western Union.

_ Scarlett - He certainly loves you still. Please come immediately, Carreen_

**A/N: I POSTED THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS OF THIS STORY ABOUT TWO YEARS AGO, THEN GOT INTO A BIT OF TROUBLE WHEN I USED THE NAME OF ANOTHER AUTHOR'S ORIGINAL CHARACTER (IT WAS A MINOR REFERENCE, AND AN HONEST MISTAKE, AS I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT THIS INDIVIDUAL HAD A PART IN 'SCARLETT'). I WAS MISTAKEN IN THAT, BUT SADLY, THE NEGATIVE MESSAGES I RECEIVED AS A RESPONSE WERE ENOUGH TO DISCOURAGE ME FROM WRITING ANY FURTHER. NOW, I FIND MYSELF IN THE MIDDLE OF A DIVORCE, SO I FIGURED I WOULD DABBLE ONCE AGAIN IN THE WORLD OF OUR BELOVED 'GONE WITH THE WIND'. **


	2. Chapter 2

Carreen worked hard all week. The little colored Creole orphan, Antoine, stopped by her room and told her that she'd delivered her note to the Western Union. She went to her Aunt Pauline's twice and read to her from the Bible, pausing often to explain this text or that for the benefit of the elder. The day before had been Friday, and she went to her Aunt's as planned, although Rosemary Butler joined them this time. She felt a shameful stab of envy at the other woman's pretty red-and-white stripped ankle-length riding dress and leather riding boots. You could make out the shape of her firm breasts, and her tanned skin, so unappealing on most women, made her face look like a flower.

Carreen felt a little better when Rosemary announced that she was just leaving, that she was merely asking if Aunt Pauline would like to join her and her brother at Folly Beach, a few miles outside the city, to take in the sea air.

"And Sister," she said in a sugar sweet voice, "…is welcome too, of course."

Aunt Pauline shook her head and begged a headache and made an excuse for Carreen before she even had a chance to form a refusal in her own words.

She noticed that she was hungry, and to her horror, heard a growling sound emit from her stomach. It didn't seem to reach the ears of Rosemary or Aunt Pauline, thankfully, although she had to wait to eat until they heard Rosemary's brother at the door. He had on blue trousers and a white cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up. His face too was extraordinarily tanned. He also donned a wide brimmed straw hat, which made Aunt Pauline giggle, and his forearms were much paler than his face, all white under the black hair. Carreen found his good humor a little repulsive, considering her own sister's distress. He was whistling as he came up the porch steps and he seemed very cheerful indeed. He said "Good morning, Sister" to her and called Aunt Pauline "Miss Pauline."

She knew that Miss Rosemary did not expect her to speak in return, so she reveled in responding to him, "Carreen, Captain Butler. Carreen."

He gave her a hard stare, as if again evaluating whether or not she was a danger to his will.

Without looking her fully in the face, he asked, "I forgot to ask - have you been here long, Carreen?"

Right away she answered, "Six years," as though she had been waiting all along for him to inquire.

At that point, Aunt Pauline said to Miss Rosemary something about the garden, and Rosemary, being an earthy sort, followed her eagerly through the side door of the solar and outside.

Carreen followed them into the solar but did not go outside in the heat. It was a very bright, whitewashed room with large glass windows. The furniture consisted of two old rocking chairs and one very faded pale blue chaise lounge. The plainness of the room, however, was a testament to the plainness of its owner rather than her lack of fortune. Just then, Captain Butler came up behind her.

"You are welcome to join us, you know."

She turned around, stopping him from moving any closer. He was scrutinizing her with such perception, she wondered what he could possibly be looking for - her features, after all, were very similar to Scarlett's. Unless, she thought with trepidation, he had guessed the nature of her shameful secret.

"You don't want to?" he asked.

"No." she answered. "Thank you."

He seemed slightly perturbed. "Why have I never seen you before, Carreen? I've traveled to Charleston often over the past six years. I even brought Bonnie with me before…" his voice trailed off. "I don't suppose you heard about…"

"I knew that she had passed," Carreen answered, but then was embarrassed because she felt that she shouldn't have said it that way, when clearly he had been asking whether or not she had heard of Bonnie when the child was alive. Well, Scarlett had rarely written, even to tell her that Bonnie had been born. But Aunt Pauline had told her how devoted Captain Butler had been to the child.

He looked at her then and shook his head. "I wonder why we haven't met before?"

She said, "I don't know."

He started twirling his mustache, then, without looking at her, he said, "If this is Scarlett's doing…"

She didn't understand his meaning, so she looked over at him. Pallor had fallen over his face.

"I don't suppose that she…" he tried again, then, apparently seeing nothing in Carreen's expression to back up the point he had been about to make, he ceased speaking and said, "I'll leave you alone, Sister."

Carreen nodded, thinking that she would see the last of him, at last - but he stayed where he was, behind her. Having the presence of her sister's husband breathing down her neck was beginning to rankle at her nerves, particularly when she noticed his eyes traveling from the top of her head to the hem of her habit. Surely he didn't know. Of course not, silly goose - no one would be the wiser.

After that, he did no more talking, save to tell his sister to hurry, that the beach would only be abandoned for so long before the negroes overtook it for their fishing sport.

And Miss Pauline blanched at that, knowing presumably that it bothered neither of those wild Butlers, Rosemary nor Rhett, to frolic on the beach in public, even if it was an uninhabited beach. It simply wasn't done, and it certainly should not be discussed in the presence of a Sister of Mercy.

Carreen was somewhat satisfied by Rosemary's blush and Rhett's apology, although she stepped in front of her aunt and said that no, she was not offended in the slightest. She thought that the idea of running freely down the beach sounded divine and she wished that she could do such a thing.

Just then, Aunt Pauline's maid came in and said that lunch was served. Aunt Pauline asked if the Butlers would stay and Rosemary answered No, but thank you.

And Rhett Butler lowered his face to Carreen's and whispered so that only she could hear him, "You know, your sister will be attempting to court you, too. It would be just like her to do that. I would appreciate it if she did not know of our acquaintance, Carreen."

She looked up at him, thinking him a horrible man and husband. How dare he expect her to keep secrets from Scarlett? Then, she recalled the nature of Scarlett's note and answered him nonchalantly, "I have not seen my sister in six years, sir." There. Not a lie, exactly, but it seemed to satisfy him, and he kissed her cheek, which caused her face to flush.

"I knew that we would be good friends," he smiled a real smile then, and took his sister's arm and left.

Aunt Pauline sat down across from Carreen at the table, then inquired as to whether or not she was alright, and had Captain Butler said something to upset her, and that if so, she would speak to Miss Eleanor, to whom he listened…

Carreen replied no, then begged a headache, no longer hungry. Aunt Pauline looked concerned, then asked her maid to bring coffee with milk. The coffee warmed her, and the smell of the flowers from the garden was coming up through the opened door of the solar. Aunt Pauline dozed off then, in her chaise lounge. Carreen must have, too, for she was awoken by the rustling noise of the rotund maid's skirts weaving through the room, her big black hands silencing the sounds of clattering china as she collected their cups.

There was a telegram waiting for her when she returned to the Motherhouse, and she didn't even bother to look at the envelope before tearing it open.

_ At Tara tonight. Will leave Jonesboro for Charleston tomorrow. Arrive midday on Sunday with stop by train. Scarlett_

**. . . .**

The Sisters of Mercy had been residents of Charleston since 1829, although the majority of that city's citizens agreed that considering their somewhat controversial mantra of toleration and reform, they were rather out of place there.

Sister Caroline Irene was no exception, standing atop the platform in her dull grey cloak and full length black veil. That she had a pretty face was obscured by the garments which decried her religious office, and the habit, she had to admit, was ugly.

She wished that she could have been greeting Scarlett in something vaguely more attractive, but there was no help for it now. Her sister's train would be pulling in at any time. In vain, she tried to conjure up an image of Scarlett, but for the life of her, she could not envision her in her own mind. How was she to conjure up a picture, as it was now, of Scarlett, who she had not seen for the better part of the past decade. What she did recall from childhood was a smug, placid air about her eldest sister. The thump-thump of her small heels against the floor, or perhaps the rustle of her voluminous skirts as she hurried to the porch to receive her gentlemen callers - in short, a thoroughly negative picture.

Again, she tried to picture Scarlett, but this time after the war. Feverish in her quest to cultivate money, working hard with the sole end of getting rich in mind. Her chief interest (after ensnaring their sister Suellen's beau for herself) was in commerce, or as their mother might have said "doing business." The violent passion of her sister's youth was short-lived, as Carreen saw it; the vices of a married woman would seldom compare with any social offense which Scarlett might have committed as a sixteen-year-old debutante. But Scarlett had always lacked intimations. She was a modern woman, and not in the "progressive" sense. And folks had always had a good deal of difficulty experiencing her…

Scarlett was twenty-eight years old, although the years since Carreen had last seen her had clearly left a mark on her face. And yet, the initial thought that came to Carreen's mind when she saw her sister was how very young the other looked. Almost childish, giddy - and the wide smile on her face effaced all else.

She kissed her sister's cheek, noting that it was very slightly moist and devoid of any rouge. She smiled up at her, for Scarlett was several inches taller than she.

"You're looking very nice, Scarlett."

The smile on her sister's face dimmed. Carreen took it in: a square-jawed, determined looking face, much alike their Pa's, and keen, intelligent eyes.

"It's good of you to say that, Carreen," Scarlett replied. Then hurriedly, she begged her to forgive her for not writing sooner; she felt that she should have looked after her better, she'd been most remiss. When Carreen shook her head in an attempt to make her stop, Scarlett added, "Anyhow, once I speak to Rhett everything will be better. We'll make a fresh start."

That's it! Carreen thought to herself. We'll all of us be making a fresh start.

But then, Scarlett turned her head and gazed at the other Charlestonians on the platform, jostling one another in their haste. Carreen shuddered as the shrill whistle of the engine reverberated in her ears, and gently, she called her sister's name. Scarlett seemed frozen, watching the return train to Atlanta pull out of the station. When she looked back, Carreen could see that her eyes were filled with tears.

"Don't …Scarlett…" she murmured.

From behind the tears, the smile returned, albeit tense. She drew a deep breath. "Everything is going to be alright."

As they moved away from the platform, Carreen saw at last what Scarlett had seen. Near the exit lurked none other than Rhett Butler and a man who looked so very alike him that he could be none other than his brother, who was holding a small girl by the hand.

Scarlett froze again.

Tall and dark, the other man had about him the air of an undertaker, and the small girl so pale, Carreen wondered if she had yet seen sunlight.

Another traveler made a greeting to Rhett Butler first, then to the man at his side. "Ross," he stated simply, commenting on the fine day and then asking if the gentlemen were going away.

"No," Rhett replied, "I've come to meet my ward, Edward, who's here to present his respects to my family."

Another engine whistled.

"Now-" the man began.

Rhett made a brief movement toward the man, then turned back, heading for the opposite end of the platform.

"Scarlett ..?" Carreen tried hesitantly. "Did you wish to speak to him?"

"No not now…It's…it's nothing," Scarlett replied. "I'm hungry, Carreen, can we eat lunch somewhere?"

It was early in the afternoon of that day, well before she was due back to the convent for evening prayers, so she agreed to join Scarlett for a private lunch in her hotel room. If she felt any shame for spurning their Aunt's house or that of Mrs. Butler's, she did not show it. Her hands were shaking and she looked in desperate need of some sort of relief from her agony. She came straight to the point the moment the lunch was delivered: conditions in her marriage were intolerable to say the least. But before she would say any more, she asked Carreen if she could tell her the truth.

"Certainly," Carreen replied.

"Of course I know that you're hardly qualified," Scarlett attempted to explain herself. "But perhaps that's why it's so perfect to ask you for your opinion. Because maybe you know something about people that I don't -"

"I doubt that," Carreen said. "But surely things aren't as bad as that."

"Oh Carreen, things are just as bad as they possibly could be. Rhett - he left me. He won't answer my letters, even about the children. Ella was terribly sick and Sue's daughter too and Sue herself, for a time. And he didn't even care to come. Not even when I told him that she could die-"

"But she's alright now? It's not come to that-"

"No, no," Scarlett reassured her, they weren't so bad as that. But she had put the idea to Rhett solely to find out if he cared enough to find out, and clearly he did not.

"Why did he leave you, Scarlett?"

"Well…it was everything, really…"

Without raising her voice, Carreen chided her, "Scarlett, forgive me for putting this bluntly, but can you or can you not tell me what happened without paltering the truth?"

"Why I -"

"You asked for my help, Scarlett, but I'm afraid that I'll have little to go by with statements like that, in which much is kept back-"

"Carreen O'Hara…don't tell me those nuns have given you gumption?" And then, Scarlett smiled.

"I don't know about that. But you asked me of your husband and this is the picture he painted for me: one of a man sick and tired of the world he lived in, Atlanta, I take it. With you, I take it. Without Bonnie, I take it. But even though he seems resolved to his existence now, I feel that there is something lacking, perhaps it is you."

Scarlett's shoulders hunched in her chair. "So, you're not certain that he still loves me at all."

"I think him a very broken man, Scarlett. I think that he is filled with complexity and with…" she paused and smiled to herself as she recalled a memory, carefully stowed away in her heart, "I see him as a man with two faces. One for his mother and sister and all of Charleston, the devil-may-care, will-o'-the-wisp…you know the one? And then another, more private face, one which he shows to no one, particularly you."

Scarlett gazed up at her sister for some moments without speaking. Then, "I think I understand you," she said, getting up from her chair.

"It's good of you to take it like that," Careen offered. "But Scarlett," the harsh heart of Sister Caroline Irene cried out, although not aloud, "…have you cared, truly, for any of your beaux, or husbands, for that matter? You have always treated those about you appallingly, particularly those who love you the most." Poor, ignorant Melanie never knew, praise be to God.

But instead, Carreen stood up and patted her sister's hand soothingly. "It's going to be alright, Scarlett."

"Of course it is," Scarlett blinked through her tears. "You've seen him, and spoken to him, yes? What did he say? Did he ask of me?"

"Yes," Carreen answered, a little dully. "He did ask. He wondered that we had never met before."

"Of course you haven't," Scarlett snapped, "I was married to Frank before you left for here, it was right after Pa's -" She stopped speaking and the air was let out of the room for a moment. Carreen felt her chest contract. Poor, dear father. Buried without even a priest to deliver the funerary rites…

"Here," Scarlett withdrew a handkerchief from the smaller of her bags. "I carry plenty wherever I go, because I never know when I'm about to start crying and I'd rather die than have anyone else know it."

"I understand," Carreen said gently. Then the obligatory, "…perhaps, if you examine your heart-"

"Examine my - Great balls of fire, Carreen, I _know _my own heart! I know that I love Rhett so that I'd do just about anything in the world to get him back!"

Carreen's mind went back to a not-so-distant time when her sister had been so preoccupied elsewhere, with the husband of another woman…

"I understand you, Scarlett. How can I help?"

**. . . .**

The two sisters caught a streetcar and went about ten minutes outside downtown Charleston, to a beach with rocks at either end, with shore grass at the land side. The late afternoon sun was hot, and the water was warm, waves slowly, gently lapping. Rhett Butler had not lied: the beach was indeed devoid of all inhabitants. Safe from prying eyes, Carreen took off her shoes and let the waves hit her ankles, although Scarlett was not as delicate, jumping right in, dress and all. As Carreen watched her swim, she realized that it reminded her of a baptism. After awhile, her eyes were stinging with salty bitterness and Scarlett, soaked, ascended from the tumbling waves. When she had dried herself and put on the clean dress she had brought, she looked at Carreen with sparkling eyes. "A new start," she said again. Then, with sudden horror, Carreen glanced down to her middle, which, without the cover of her habit's cassock, was bulging out like a large bulla. Thankfully, Scarlett didn't notice. They didn't say anything further, hurrying to catch the return streetcar and get back, her to the convent and Scarlett to the hotel.

"Won't you stay with me, Sissy?" Scarlett begged with her big green eyes flashing. "I don't want to be here by myself. Please?"

Carreen did understand, although she wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation. She nodded her head and asked the hotel concierge if they would send someone to the motherhouse with notice that she was with her sister, who was feeling unwell, and would return in the midmorning. The man said that he would do so, and Scarlett looked triumphant.

Carreen had a hard time waking up on Sunday, and Scarlett had to call her name out and shake her, nearly throwing her out of the bed. She yawned, feeling completely drained and having a slight headache. Her eggs tasted vile and Scarlett made fun of her because, she said, she had on her "funeral face." Scarlett had put on a lavender housecoat over her nightgown and left her hair down, and Carreen forced a smile and told her sister that she was beautiful.

Scarlett grinned and opened the blinds, which hit Carreen like a slap in the face. She was jumping for joy, going on and on about what a beautiful day it was, and how happy she was. Scarlett's enthusiasm seemed to be infectious - in truth the streets of Charleston seemed louder, the folks gayer than usual. Carreen too, after finally convincing Scarlett that she needed privacy to dress, was in an optimistic mood as she joined her sister at the concierge desk. There was a letter from Mrs. Eleanor Butler that had come with the first mail.

Although Scarlett's hands were shaking as she opened it, she was smiling from ear to ear. "I told you."

"Well?" Carreen inquired.

Scarlett gazed at her sister imploringly. "We're both invited to tea today. Would you mind terribly?"

Carreen rolled her eyes, knowing that Mother Celestine would be displeased, but knowing that there would be further, more significant confrontations in the near future, sighed, and nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," Scarlett clasped her hands. "Listen, I'll ring up for a maid to dress me. Oh, yes, I know I have to wear black, but I might…oh Carreen!" her eyes were shining with tears of joy and relief. "I knew that he would love me still."

Carreen nodded absently, and Scarlett, in her euphoria, did not notice her hand travel to her abdomen, nor did she hear her breath come in sudden gasps, as though she was stifling underneath some unseen pressure.

"Sissy, are you alright?" Scarlett finally noticed.

Weakly, Carreen nodded. "I'll be fine. Let's ready you for the Butlers."


	3. Chapter 3

"Do I look alright? Perhaps I should have chosen the other dress." Scarlett fiddled with her gloves, then sighed loudly.

"You look beautiful," Carreen answered in a soft voice. It was not a lie. Scarlett did look beautiful, although Carreen was only too well aware of the serious turn things had taken. She had assumed that her sister and her husband were engaged in a marital quarrel, only marginally fractious but blown out of proportion because it was Scarlett involved, and Scarlett was so bullheaded and stubborn when she perceived a slight. But now that she had met Rhett for herself and seen Scarlett's changed demeanor, she was troubled indeed as their carriage bounced noisily over the terrain leading to Dunmore Landing.

"But I can not stay long," Carreen was reminding her sister. "…and I can't do anything about it. Any leave of absence can be issued only by Mother Superior. Anyhow, why do you suppose you would need me to remain? Your husband will be there, after all."

"No reason, I suppose." But alarm was showing on her sister's face. She then asked the question, "…and what did he look like, when you spoke with him at Auntie's?" and then followed with, "But I'm sure I do not care _what_ he looks like!"

Carreen rolled her eyes. "He looked very similar to the day I saw him last, only dressed more informally and in better spirits. Still the same, though. About forty-five, although he could be older or younger by several years. Moderate height, but on the tall side. Broad shoulders. Rectangular face with a prominent jaw. Dark, steady eyes. Biggish nose, but well made. Black hair, cropped very close to his head. Tight-set mouth and curving mustache. He reminds me of a Sicilian."

"A what?"

"A Sicilian. You know, from Sicily…Italy?"

"When have you ever met one of those, Sissy?"

Although shades of her old self were coming through, Carreen could not shake off the feeling that Scarlett was nervous to the point of illness. She could attribute it to exhaustion, certainly; after all, her sister had her full share of worries.

And _her_ burden would only increase them, Carreen thought to herself guiltily. She could hold off telling her though. At least until she had settled this business with Rhett. That was logical thinking: she would help Scarlett settle whichever issue was plaguing her marriage. Then, in return for her discretion in her time of need, she would seek her sister's own discretion and aid, and have her child quietly and without shame on her family name. The thought soothed her own nerves, which she hastily attempted to get into some sort of order.

On reaching their destination the sisters found that Rhett hadn't actually returned home yet. Mrs. Butler, who met them on the landing, suggested that they wait for him in the solar, leaving the door open behind her. The house was very finely built, but plainly furnished, as was the case with most of the old Charleston gentility.

Carreen thought that Scarlett looked supremely unimpressed, and even more so when Rosemary walked in wearing a dark blue dress made from gauzy, nearly translucent fabric. Her eyes were steely and hard, and Scarlett lowered her eyes rather than look Rhett's sister's. This, however, was not the case with Miss Eleanor, who welcomed both Scarlett and Carreen with marked enthusiasm.

"What a lovely pair you both are," Miss Eleanor gushed, and Rosemary snickered.

Scarlett looked trapped in her tight-fitted, high necked black mourning gown and Carreen felt dingy in her habit, which was dusty from two days worth of wear.

Rhett looked tired and overwrought when he finally appeared, and stood aside at the doorway to let first his mother and sister pass, followed by Scarlett, who was expecting him to kiss her by the look on her face, and Carreen in the rear. In that moment, she thought that Scarlett looked like a little black mouse, looking upward with stunned hesitation as it is about to be crushed under the breadth of a boot. He held up Scarlett at the foot of the stairs, then introduced a small girl and a boy dressed in plantation finery as his niece, Abigail, and his ward, Edward.

"They'll be spending a few weeks here at the Landing," he said, "…then it's back to school for them both. Abigail will be starting at Sacred Heart in Savannah, Sister."

Carreen smiled and informed the little girl that she really knew very little about Sacred Heart, but believed the Sisters there to be very kind indeed.

Edward was shyer than Abigail, who seemed interested in Carreen and asked her if she was a "real" nun, however, he did explain after some prompting that he was trying to brush up on his Latin. The teachers in New Orleans, he explained, taught him a sort of French Latin that was all blurred in his mind.

After they made their introductions and small talk, he told them to go and play outside after they had shaken their "Aunt" Scarlett's hand. Again, Scarlett had that mousy look on her face.

He addressed the two children as though they were trained hounds. "Go." And they went.

He used no terms of endearment to either of the youngsters, and addressed Scarlett and Carreen both with politely spiteful remarks - and Carreen recalled all too well how he so bluntly told her what he thought of her sister.

"Rhett, you're behaving quite disgracefully."

Scarlett was on the brink of tears - which she should be, in Carreen's opinion. Rhett, however, showed only irritation.

"Indeed? More so than you, coming here when I expressly forbade you to do so?"

"Why you - you said you didn't care, not not to -"

"Have a care for your sister, Scarlett."

Carreen met his eyes. Shameful man.

"There is no need for you to worry about offending me," she said, gazing up at him for a moment

"Naturally," he replied.

When his mother returned to the foyer, she announced that she had rang for lunch and urged them to follow her into the dining room. Carreen was to sit next to her at table, then Scarlett and Rhett, across from one anther at either head. Rosemary sat opposite Carreen.

"The bugs are proving catastrophic to our rice-" she was saying.

And she could talk of nothing else.

To console the other woman, who she didn't really like but to whom she felt obliged to speak, Carreen said, "Well, it seems that all the other plantations are in the same boat."

"And that's just it," Rosemary replied curtly. "Dunmore Landing has always been immune to such…imperfections."

Was she talking about the rice, or had her bugs been a metaphor for herself and her sister?

"There have been ten confirmed cases of yellow fever as well," Mrs. Butler offered. "Two deaths in forty-eight hours, the doctor's wife said when she was here for tea yesterday."

"It's very alarming," Carreen agreed, then looked down the table at Scarlett and Rhett's battle of wills. Scarlett's green eyes had taken on a glint that hurt Carreen to look upon. He had made her shake in her boots earlier and now she had replaced her feelings of hurt with anger.

"It is this weather that's to blame," Rosemary stated. "The heat, brings the bugs. Brings the fever. Cooks you, doesn't it? Scorches the dirt itself."

"Sounds like a fever, does it not?" Rhett himself piped up. "Or like a corpse…attracting all the vultures."

A mood of listlessness descended over the table, and Carreen felt compelled to offer up some evidence of Scarlett's good character.

"You remember, of course, Scarlett …after the war…that summer, how hot it was?"

Scarlett looked grateful. "Yes, of course. We had a deal to do to see the cotton planted and a few vegetables to eat…"

"We would have starved without her," Carreen said, truthfully.

"I don't know about that, Sissy."

Carreen was surprised that she would use the pet name she had bestowed upon her during childhood in front of the Butlers, but her heart swelled with loyalty and sisterly affection.

"I do. You saved our very lives. I doubt any lady alive would have been more resourceful."

"No," Rhett Butler replied. "No _lady_ would have been." And then he stood up and left the table, not even pushing his chair in or making an excuse to his mother for his rudeness.

Rhett's mother took Rhett's sudden disappearance quite calmly. She was a small woman with silver hair and dark, gentle eyes.

"He is like that sometimes," she said vaguely, "I'm so glad to be with you again, Scarlett." She added, "Even the circumstances cannot change that, anyway."

Scarlett nodded, and Carreen observed that it was more tolerable to be in Rhett's presence while his mother was there.

But the situation worsened in the following days.

Carreen woke with a gout of blood on her sheets. A wave of something like panic swept over her. But by the next day the phenomenon abruptly passed and the maids had collected the stained sheets, probably assuming that it was just a particularly strong one of her monthly courses. She began to breathe more freely, although her habit felt tight and Scarlett's nerves were on the raw.

It was, however, on this same day, this time in the middle of dinner, that Carreen began to again feel bad, but feverish this time. She had started to feel pains in all sorts of places: her back, legs, stomach, and even in that most secret place - and was obliged to ask Scarlett to give her an arm back up the stairs right in the middle of the meal.

"It's just swellings," she said quickly after Scarlett remarked that she clearly hadn't been starving at the convent, "I must have strained myself somehow, that's all."

When they reached the bedroom and safety, Carreen took off her veil and the rosary about her waist and sat down on the bed. Scarlett sat down beside her and frowned as she ran a hand over Carreen's exposed waistline. The bulge was there, obviously. It was hard, like a knot in wood. Carreen knew what it felt like. And her sister was no fool.

"Get in bed at once, and take your temperature. We'll have the doctor come and see you this afternoon."

Carreen thought quickly; no, that was quite impossible. "I'm quite well, really," she reassured her sister, who did not seem reassured in the least.

A few minutes later, she heard Scarlett hurry down the stairs to meet Rhett. By the sounds of his footfalls, he was about halfway up.

"Carreen is ill!" she announced.

"What seems to be the trouble?" he sounded out of breath.

"Well, she looks better now," Scarlett told Rhett, "but she looked truly horrid before." Carreen had noticed that Scarlett had difficulty forming her words around him, though she had no trouble expressing herself to anyone else.

"Well, there are a lot of people ill, Scarlett," he said shortly. "In town. They're calling it Yellow Fever, although they really don't know what the hell it is. But three have already died. If we need to send for a doctor, we can. But it's just inviting whatever it is into the house."

"I suppose that…I suppose it means that I'm not leaving then?" she said hopefully.

Carreen could see them standing there through her bedroom door. Rhett was gazing at her sister through tired, bloodshot eyes. The man had done nothing but drink since they had been there, she was certain.

"I suppose not," he mumbled. "Sister," he stuck his head in the doorway. "If you're feeling that sick, I'll swallow my pride and send for Doctor Anderson to examine you in the morning.:

Carreen sat up immediately in bed, horrified that he had seen her in a state of such dishabille, "That will not be necessary."

"Don't feel alarmed," Rhett said, "He's an old friend, he won't be put out by the call."

"It's not that, its-"

"Its alright, Carreen," Scarlett said, "…I know that you don't like to be looked at, but you've probably come down with what everyone else in town has-"

Carreen assured them tearfully that there wasn't the least risk of that; she'd been well cloistered at the convent, that she must have had a stomach upset, but it had passed and all she wanted now was to be left in peace.

"But Carreen-" Scarlett started again.

"Very well," Rhett cut her off. "We'll say no more about it for the present. We'll send for the doctor in a day or two if you're not completely recovered."

"No, no, no," Carreen slumped back on the bed and started to sob weakly.

Rhett, who had been twiddling his mustache while they were speaking, went up to Scarlett and gave her arm a squeeze. "Let's let Sister Carreen get some sleep, Scarlett."

On the landing Scarlett protested that she felt sure that they needed to send for the doctor sooner rather than later, no matter Carreen's wishes.

"And I'll sit up with her tonight and watch her," Scarlett said, "…I had no idea that she was ill all night. She wouldn't say a word about it, of course-"

"Does Carreen have any other acquaintances here in town?" Rhett interrupted. "Besides your Aunts, I mean?"

"Not that I know of. I can't say that I know all of her friends, of course - and I've never been in a convent-"

"No, I doubt if they'd have you," he said, catching himself glancing at her face. "But she's never mentioned a man?"

"A man? Fiddle-dee-dee. She's got other things to think about."

"What?" he chortled. "God? Aiding you in your campaign to ensnare me with your tempestuous affections? Or are you here on another matter entirely?"

She looked up to see if he was mocking her, but to her surprise, he looked oddly curious.

She had no idea. But something in his face caught her sharp eye, and she detected a potential advantage.

"I had better go and see about her," she said softly, leaving him standing there, his mouth slightly open. After gazing at her back for a moment, he went downstairs.

Scarlett reentered the bedroom to find her sister leaning over the edge of the bed, one hand pressed to her belly and one to her mouth, vomiting into the pail the maid had left earlier. After she had retched for a good five minutes straight, she laid back in bed, gasping for breath.

"It's like…fire…from the inside out," she whimpered as Scarlett sponged her forehead with a cool cloth. "I'm so ashamed," she said, her eyes suffused with tears.

"Please, let Rhett call the doctor," Scarlett said. "Please don't be so bullheaded!"

"No, Scarlett. Please, don't. I'm not so ill. I'm not on death's door."

The next day brought with it a blue sky and warm sunlight and a gentle breeze, bringing with it the rich and wonderful smells of the outdoors through the opened windows.

Carreen was still asleep, and Scarlett was happy to report to Rhett over breakfast that she had had no more vomiting throughout the night, and that they need not call the doctor at all.

"So she's better, is she?" he inquired. "I'd say that it's a bit early in the day to pronounce her cured."

Scarlett gazed at him imploringly. "What are you talking about? You act as if you want her to be ill, that you're happy about it?"

He shrugged. "I'm not happy about it. I merely had a theory. A hypothesis, if you will. I was only anxious to see if I was at all correct. I hope to hell that I am not."

"What did you-"

He raised an eyebrow. "I am loathe to say-"

"Oh say it, you devil! What did you think was the matter with her?"

"Go and see how she is, why don't you?"

Scarlett huffed and fumed and said that she would do just that. And ten minutes later, she and the maid and Mrs. Butler were bending over a miserable Carreen. Rambling words were issuing from her mouth in between retches. She kept on repeating, "I'm fine. No, no. I'm quite well."

Scarlett's face was green as she exited the room to face Rhett, who was waiting outside.

"What is it that you think is wrong with her?"

"Have you not had three children of your own, Mrs. Butler?"

"You think that - Carreen? That's absurd. She can't be…but she's a nun!"

"And a woman too, I believe…"

Rhett and Scarlett's recognition of her symptoms and Scarlett's acknowledgment of it that same night marked, one might say, the end of Carreen's panicked attempt to hide her condition from her sister, but then gradually gave way to panic of another sort - that things had gone this far and would no doubt go further. And it was with that fear that serious reflection began.

Scarlett, who was fanning herself with a newspaper, was accompanied by Rhett, and Carreen felt a keen sense of foreboding.

They knew. They had figured it out before she had had a chance to mull it over in her mind. Lord in Heaven, but she had not meant for _him_ to find out along with her sister. But they both were there, lucidly recognizing what had to be recognized. It would be alright, she attempted to soothe her nerves; if they would help her, then all would be well. If not, they could perhaps advise her what steps should be taken for coping with her situation…

Rhett asked her how she was feeling, and Scarlett put in her own word explaining that Mrs. Butler was bent on calling the doctor but that if she would only reassure them that there was no need, they could spare themselves the scandal.

That did it. Carreen burst flatly into tears.

"Well," Rhett said, "perhaps we'd better make up our minds to call this mystery illness by it's name. So far we've been beating around the bush. Carreen?"

"How did this happen?" Scarlett said, her voice hollow and cool.

"Well, we know _how _it happened."

Carreen attempted to get a handle on her tears.

"Stop it, Sissy! Stop it! Stop crying - there's no sense crying about it now!"

"But now that we agree on a name," Rhett said, "…we need another name. I think you know what I mean, Carreen."

"That I shan't say."

"You must say, Sissy!"

"Why must I, Scarlett? It's not important! You'd gain nothing by knowing his name."

"I want you to tell me!"

"No."

"You see, Scarlett? It's not so easy after all. Now if you ladies will excuse me…since you're no longer in danger of perishing, Sister, I'm off to town. My evening is full."

"Oh Rhett, don't go now. The sick people-"

He held a hand to his mouth mockingly. "Concern, my pet? How touching."

"When will you be back?" Scarlett cried. "In the morning?"

"Considering that I'm traveling a grand total of three miles, it would be surprising if I wasn't."

"May I know?" Scarlett asked haltingly, "Where it is that you're going?"

Rhett murmured some remark from which Scarlett seemed to gather that she was meant to follow him and a moment later was hurrying behind him with short, fast steps out of Carreen's bedroom and down the hallway.

When they had reached Rhett's bedroom door, Scarlett asked somberly, "What can we do? What will we _say_?"

Rhett was fingering his watch, and pulled it out of his waistcoat pocket to check the time. "You'd better call during regular business hours," he jibed. Then, changing his mind at the distressed look on her face, told her he would go and see Mother Superior the next day and create a suitable story about Carreen's illness that would keep her away from the convent for a number of months. "That is," he said seriously, "…if she wants to return to the convent at all."

"Of course she does," Scarlett snapped. "…all she does is pray and fiddle with her rosary."

"Clearly that isn't _all_, if her current predicament is any indication." Rhett reminded her. "Of course, she is your sister. More to the book than the cover."

"What do you mean by that?"

"In short, she has all the attributes of insignificance. A good nun, so to speak. But as we have seen, there is much more lurking underneath that dull habit…that's all."

"But you're going to help her, aren't you? You're not going to tell your mother and your sister? If you do, then Aunties will hear and it'll be all over the city in a day! Say you won't, Rhett! You mustn't!"

"Scarlett, all I asked you for was a little peace. The prospect of a life suitably insured by honest work. I would have returned often enough to keep the gossip at bay, if you'd have only let me be…"

"But Carreen-"

"I know, I know, Carreen this and that and the other…but I know you, Scarlett O'Hara. And sisterly affection is not the spur that is activating you to become her staunch advocate."

"If you reveal her, she'll be the shame of every family in the South, and so will I and so will you and so will Wade and Ella, if you care to think about them."

He smiled wryly. "Pulling out your big guns, aren't you, Scarlett? So I take it that Sister dear will need to be transported to somewhere outside of Charleston, Atlanta, or even Tara, am I right?"

"Oh God, she could never go there. Not to Tara and Suellen and her big mouth. The whole County would hear about it by nightfall. And their connections in Atlanta the next day."

"I see your point. So I'll have to determine somewhere else safe to send her."

"Well, of course I'll go with her."

"Why would you do that?"

"She's my sister and I …well…I just have to."

"Suit yourself. I'll try to determine an appropriate place for her to rest comfortably and in anonymity and you can be gone by week's end. Fair enough?"

"We certainly can't go alone. And we can't be seen leaving together without you! Imagine the talk!"

"You're testing my patience, Scarlett. Now I've played your little game tonight and have been more than fair, I think, particularly in light of you breaking our bargain and coming here. Now, in kindness to your sister, I'll talk to the convent and keep her confidence, but that's it. I'm no longer invested in your family, Scarlett. If you want to clean up her mess for her, I'll ensure her good name here, but no more."

"You always were a skunk. But fine. I won't argue with you anymore tonight. I'd better go and see how she is. She's probably scared to death that we ran out like that."

As he watched her receding form, it flashed on Rhett Butler what it was that Scarlett was trying to convey to him, although he did not like to give her credit for anything other than manipulation; she was accepting her sister's situation out of honorable motives, of loyalty to the memory of her mother and of Miss Melly, attributes of both he could see in her sister. As he made his way down the staircase, this thought reassured him that his liberty and his peace of mind were safe. She knew where he stood, and while she would try to sniff out an advantage whenever possible, her tenacious survival skills would be firmly invested in Carreen…if not for herself, for the O'Hara name then. For some moments he lingered on the landing, gazing out the window and up into the blackness of the night sky, powerless against her presence and too weak still in his resolve to escape into town...


	4. Chapter 4

On the day after they had confronted Carreen, the Yellow Fever in town notched an advance, finding its way into the morning paper. The headline in the Charleston Chronicle had been made, and Mrs. Butler mentioned discreetly to Scarlett that perhaps it would be better to hurry and get back home to Atlanta and safety before it became more widespread. "And your sister as well," she added, which made Scarlett think that Rhett might have said something of the situation to her after all.

On the following day, Rhett observed that many of the stores were closed and that cargo ships were sitting idly in the harbor. Whole crews from the tropics were turning up sick, staying in the city to recuperate and spreading the pestilence as a result. That evening, he took Scarlett aside and faced her squarely after dinner, saying that he had both spoken to Mother Superior and found a place for Carreen to rest; although, he warned, it would be a long train ride.

The way his eyes swept her person in one glance left her feeling as if he had stripped her from head to toe. Her mouth was slightly open and she moved uncertainly towards him, as if she were trying to maintain her balance. Why was she so vulnerable in his presence?

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you coming with us?"

"I will check in from time to time. See that you're settled and that your sister is properly looked after when her time comes." His eyes seemed to pass over her sharply.

"But you will come?" she said hopefully.

"When I am able," he said with nonchalance.

"What about Wade and Ella?" Scarlett asked.

A surprised look crossed his face. "Can't your sister keep them?"

"For half a year or more? Certainly not. And what about Ashley and Beau? I have to see about them too, don't I?"

"Of course," he said flatly, managing a stiff smile as he straightened to his full height. "Always Ashley."

And he walked away before she had the chance to remind him of Melly's final words to her, to watch over her husband and little son.

The next day he was gone, having left only a very brief note with very little indication that he cared about their fates in any way, save for the instructions for his mother and sister to go visiting in Savannah and send Abigail on to the convent school there and Edward back to New Orleans on the next available train. Scarlett and Carreen were to go to New Orleans as well, to await further instructions from his associate, a Mr. Hill, whom they were to call upon at the address he had given them. Mr. Hill, he said, would know what to do with Edward as well. Aside from that, his instructions had began with a bald statement that a few whispers of Carreen's misconduct had already reached Mother Superior's ears; but it was not yet possible for her to determine any validity to those accusations. Regardless, she had been given leave for as long as she required, and he had gifted the Archdiocese of Charleston enough greenbacks to complete the new cathedral, for what that was worth.

The constant, unceasing patter of the rain on the roof combined with the vicious lashing of tree branches set her teeth on edge as she read the toneless, uncaring note. Perfunctory and detailed, precise in tone and devoid of anything which could be construed as loving or affectionate. He had struck a business deal with her, and this was a contract.

Rosemary stuck to her guns after Scarlett had allowed her to read the portion of the note which concerned her and her mother. "The point isn't whether or not there's fever in the town. There's always a fever every few years or so. All the rest is a matter of you and your sister and that little bastard of his."

Scarlett's mouth hardened. "Excuse me?"

Rosemary's white teeth flashed in a wayward grin. "Don't tell me you didn't realize? Lord, Scarlett, I thought you had sense."

"Please answer me frankly. Are you absolutely convinced that that boy…is…"

"Without a shadow of a doubt."

After gazing at the note for another moment, Scarlett went upstairs. She wasn't thinking about anything but his betrayal, which felt as if he had stuck a knife through her very heart and was twisting it in sadistic delight. Carreen was lying down in the bedroom resting, just as she had asked her to do, in view of the undoubtedly exhausting journey before them.

When a shaking, sobbing Scarlett put it to Carreen, she merely shrugged. "He was born well before you were married."

Scarlett cut in with some impatience. "He fathered a child, Carreen, a _child_. I knew that he was visiting a little boy in New Orleans, he told me that. But God's nightgown, if I'd have know that it was _his _boy."

Carreen replied that she could see the resemblance with her own eyes, and she could see just as clearly the signs of real neglect on the boy's face. What she did not say was that she had observed the same signs in the face of Wade Hampton, Scarlett's own son.

"Your view, I take it is this. That we should put him on a train to New Orleans tonight and alone and us be on to Atlanta tomorrow?"

"We're going to New Orleans too, Sissy. But I have to wire to Will to send Prissy with Wade and Ella the same day. And I'll have to look in on Ashley and Beau and see about them before we do."

"Why couldn't Edward just come with us?"

"Because…what would I tell Wade and Ella? Who should I say that he is, a cousin?"

"Tell them what you like. But you should ask Mrs. Butler if we might have Abigail as well. She's a sweet little girl and is terribly attached to Edward. It would be a pity to separate them."

"What's it to you? And why is she here, anyway?"

"Because her mother is dead and her father is an inebriate who cannot care for her, that's why. And I for one think that your husband is mighty good to care for her and Edward like this, despite not being obliged to do so…"

This way of putting it was met the next morning with general approval of Mrs. Butler, who liked her granddaughter around but seemed to not want to travel with her, and Rosemary, who despised both children and Scarlett and wished to see the last of them all. With Scarlett's scowl and protestations following her, Carreen left the parlor in agony, barely making it to the pail by her bedside. Some minutes later, she emerged from the bedroom wearing one of Scarlett's black dresses and her hair uncovered, clean and subdued in a chignon…she shut the door behind her, and Sister Caroline Irene was left behind as well.

Almost a day and a half had passed before the train pulled into the Atlanta depot, where it would remain for several hours before carrying on to New Orleans. It had been a long night, and Carreen had been awake all night, listening to the low, disconcerting murmurs emitting from her sister's lips.

"I'm so sorry, Rhett," she had moaned.

She had attempted to rouse her and shush her before she woke the two children, who were asleep on their pallets on the floor of the car. But Carreen couldn't sleep, aware of every word out of Scarlett's mouth.

"Please …Rhett…don't…leave…me. Melly! Help me… What am I to do?"

Finally, the hissing of the train whistle reached their ears and the train paused.

Gently, she called Scarlett's name and shook her; when she looked up, her face was wet with tears. She wrapped her arms around her, handing Scarlett her shawl and bonnet while she straightened her hair and pinched her cheeks for color. She had slept in her dress to avoid the need to change.

"Now off you go, Scarlett. Don't worry, everything is going to be alright. I do hope that all is well with Ashley."

"I hope so too," Scarlett agreed. As she stepped out of their private car, she hailed a porter and instructed him to send her darkie servant, one Prissy, and her two children straight to their car and into her sister's care, but that her sister was resting and could not be disturbed by anyone else.

After breakfast had been served and Scarlett had been gone for about an hour, Edward and Abigail finally stirred, their shoulders hunched as they leaned over their breakfasts. Carreen smiled at them, and asked them how they had slept.

Abigail shrugged and said fine, while the boy shook his head and said not good, that he was glad to be on his way back to New Orleans and away from Charleston.

"Have you lived in New Orleans all of your life, Edward?" she inquired.

He shook his head no, then Abigail spoke up on his behalf. "He came to live with us when he was a little younger. But my brother died and Mamma too and Papa said that he had to go back. And Uncle Rhett came and got him."

"And took you to New Orleans?" Carreen prodded gently.

Edward nodded. "I miss Rhett."

"Well, he's only been gone a few days -"

"I know. But he's changed."

"In what way?"

"He's gotten mean."

"Was he not mean before?"

Edward and Abigail were both at a loss. They couldn't say with accuracy that Rhett had every been unamiable to either of them. But he was a silent, secretive sort of man, with something dark in his character. And not dark as Abigail's father was when he got to drinking…just, a brooding melancholy, perhaps. And the children didn't understand what had caused him to become so.

But Edward was not opposed to talking, once he had started. His bedroom, meals at a 'bad house', some rather mysterious comings and goings - that appeared to amount to the sum of the young boy's childhood. Rhett had described himself to the boy as a traveling purveyor of goods and services, and while he had stayed in New Orleans with him, he had been visited by two or three men per day, at least, and Edward had been ordered to remain out of the way. But the thing that had struck Carreen the most about both children was their aloofness and their general mistrust of everyone with whom they came into contact.

Abigail looked up at her, her gray eyes fixed on Carreen for several minutes; then, after she had studied her thoroughly, she asked: "Are you going to die too, like my Mama?"

Carreen shook her head. "Why would you think that?"

"Because Uncle Rhett said that you were going to have a baby. Lots of women die when they have babies. Aunt Scarlett almost died."

Overcoming her initial shock that not only did the children know her dreadful secret but that Rhett himself had _told_ them, Carreen ran her fingers through her hair to brush a stray strand from her forehead and attempted to smile toward the girl. "Women do not die because of the baby, Abigail. Sometimes things happen, of course. But God gives us babies because He loves us so much. Just like He gave you to your parents."

"God didn't give me," Edward told her. "Rhett says he wishes I was never born."

"He doesn't mean that!" Carreen said quickly.

And then Abigail countered. "But why did God take my Mama? And Aunt Scarlett's baby and Cousin Bonnie?"

"Because, I suppose that God needed your Mama to do a job for him up in heaven. And as for Bonnie, I suppose that God wanted her to be an angel…I didn't know that you met Bonnie, Abigail?"

The little girl nodded, exchanging a glance with Edward, who said, "I met her too. She came with Rhett."

And Abigail added. "And then Aunt Scarlett's baby died. Grandmamma said that Uncle Rhett was grief-full."

"Grief-full ain't a word," Edward elbowed her.

"But that's what he was."

Carreen nodded, "I'm quite sure that he was…yes, I'm sure that he was exactly that…"

After about an hour's worth of small talk, Carreen took out her rosary, feeling the full burden of her situation weighing heavily on her heart. She had been so impetuous and blind in her actions, and now she was a catalyst to Scarlett's further separation and isolation from her husband. And these poor, poor children were a testament to that very strange family which her sister had married into - it was the sort of struggle to which she had never been accustomed. Her poor sister. She had helped, as always, to lighten her burden, and she had gladly put herself into Scarlett's hands, along with these two innocents for whom Scarlett had no feeling nor obligation. In her overactive sense of charity, she had made it worse for her sister.

Sometime after her prayers, there was a knock at the car door. It was the porter and with him, a darkie girl of about twenty or so years, narrow of shoulders and hips and wearing a shapeless navy blue dress and white kerchief.

"Miz Carreen!" the idiot girl threw back her head and haw-hawed in bemusement. "Ah ain't seen you since you done goed up to de convent!"

Carreen grabbed the scrawny neck and pulled her roughly into the car.

"Tell the whole train, why don't you?" she muttered disgustedly under her breath before addressing the porter. "Thank you," she said before dismissing the man. The other two children paused in the doorway, their shining eyes looking upon her half in fear and half in admiration.

She felt immeasurably blessed when she looked at Wade Hampton, for he looked like Miss Melanie and was well on his way to being a handsome man. Good; he would do Scarlett proud then. Ella, she had not met before, even as an infant. She had inherited Scarlett's green eyes and her auburn hair was charmingly coiffed in the latest fashion. Abigail looked at the younger girl with glowing approval and said, "I like your slippers."

After that, the two were friends, withdrawing to their own corner of the car in quiet conversation.

The two boys merely gazed at one another without speaking. Wade finally addressed Carreen with an "I'm very glad to see you, Auntie."

"It's very good to see you too, Wade Hampton. I'm just sorry not to have gotten to come to Tara myself. Your mother's gone to say hello to your Uncle Ashley and your cousin, but she's due back in the hour. This is Edward, by the way - your Uncle Rhett's ward, from New Orleans."

Again, that dismissive, almost annoyed look crossed Wade's face.

"Is Uncle Rhett going to be there as well?"

"I'm not certain," Carreen began.

"He said that he wasn't," Edward cut in. "I doubt that he will."

"I understand," Wade said flatly. "I didn't expect him to be there…I told Ella so…"

Scarlett, meanwhile, had sent a note to Ashley's saying that she might be seeing him in the evening, as she was in Atlanta only a few hours and wanted to see Beau.

"I'm glad you're here, Scarlett," Aunt Pittypat Hamilton fretted, clasping her small hand about her fan, "It'll do him good. You see, he's been so off since Melly…so very off."

"How, Aunt Pitty?"

"He's gone crazy, I'm just sure of it. And how can I be certain of protection with the man of the house in such a state!? What, for myself, of course, and that little boy. Oh, Scarlett, if you can help him, I beg you to do it."

"Alright, Auntie," Scarlett reassured her, at a loss for how to combat the situation. She had to leave, and quickly. If she could only make it to New Orleans, Rhett would be there; she was sure of that. Why did she have to deal with Ashley, too? Especially now when, so Aunt Pitty had said, there had been a complete change in him for the worst. When she walked through the yard that Pitty shared with Ashley and Melly, she was met by Beau, who was playing in the doorway.

"Lord almighty, Beau, you're the image of your mother!"

He did look like Melly, although, upon further inspection, she could see that his hair was slick and unevenly parted and his face was grubby. He had been the most immaculately groomed boy in Atlanta and now he looked like a ragamuffin.

"Aunt Scarlett!" Beau threw his arms about her delightedly. "Is Wade coming back now? I figured that once Wade came back, I'd go back to school."

"You've not been in school?"

"No ma'am. I'm not allowed until Wade's back." Beau gazed up at her, blinking his eyes. "Tell me, Aunt Scarlett. Is my Daddy ill like Auntie India says? Will they have to put him in the hospital?"

"No." Scarlett said firmly. "But I'm going to see about him and tell him that you're to go to school. You stay here and don't move, Beau. I'll see what's going with him."

She walked into the center of the dark room and put a hand to her mouth as she saw him sitting there, gazing at the window and up the dark street, as if he wished to disappear into the blackness of the sky.

"Ashley Wilkes!"

He looked away. "What do you want, Scarlett?" His voice was hoarse and labored, and he cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder. His beard was long and ragged and he looked and smelled as if he had not bathed for weeks. "India said you were coming to town. And I wondered if there was anything to it. I've missed seeing you around."

"I've been mighty lax in coming, Ashley, and I'm sorry for it-"

"You needn't be sorry. You have more to delve through than my helplessness. They say that I need to be committed, Scarlett. Isn't that amusing?"

"You aren't yourself, Ashley. Please don't talk this way. Melly would-"

"Melly's dead." He cut her off. "And I wish that I were as well."

"Well of course you feel that way," she attempted gentleness, "That's only to be expected. But you know how people talk."

"You're right, of course. In your cold, callous art of ridicule, my dear."

"I'm not-"

"Not intentionally, no. But you've always been this way, Scarlett. Conditioned to grief. Immune to it, even. When Melly died, it was the end of my world. But it's not that you need here."

"What do I need, Ashley?"

He almost shouted, his voice filled with rage. "You need to win! As always! You won out over me even when Melly was alive. You ruined my life, Scarlett! You forever killed my sense of honor, of happiness - even after I lost my place in this world, you forever tethered me to my sins of old. I could never stand on my own two feet, but I might have, with Melly's help. As it was, you crucified me on the alter of your unyielding devotion to a man who no longer existed, if he ever did-"

"You never told me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should have told me years ago that it was Melly you loved, not me. And I lost Rhett too, Ashley. All because of you-"

"Well, we seem to have recurring themes in our lives together, don't we, Scarlett? We spend an eternity groping for something which is just barely out of our reach, only to find that one day the blue sky we always took for granted has crashed about our heads. We were taken by surprise, weren't we? You asked why I never told you that it was Melly all along, well this is why: when I returned from the war, I was a different man. I had seen cartloads of dead bodies of my friends, the cries of agony as they writhed in their agonizing final moments. The nights and days always filled with those sounds, those memories - and yet, Scarlett, not even all those horrors could come close to the depravity as my lips met yours in the orchard. Yes, I could have left Melly and gone with you as you asked. It was not beyond the bounds of possibility. I hated myself for it. And when you had remained completely and utterly unchanged in your demeanor and your devotion, I was caught off my guard. Certainly you understood my hesitation; after all, Melly was so very fragile and Beau was so very removed from me. It might have very well been my own stupidity which enabled me to refuse to sever ties with you for good and all, but even if it was that, it didn't prevent it from lasting. I tried, though. But you sank your teeth in me like a bulldog, and you lost sight of everything else - I did too, I grant - were we not always so much wrapped up in ourselves, perhaps it might have been different. Perhaps she'd still be here…"

"Ashley, you can't say that-"

"Why can't I, Scarlett? It's the truth, isn't it? I tell myself day after day that perhaps this is all a bad dream that will pass away. But it won't pass away. It has ruled out any future for me, any freedom. But I have let my tongue run away from me. I did not mean to burden you with my sufferings, dear Scarlett. I must fix my mind, for it's hanging only by a thread. And I fear that it will snap and there will be no recovery. Would that be so bad, I wonder?"

"Ashley, stop! Stop it, now!"

"I will stop it, Scarlett. I will. You won't have to waste any more of your time on me. You have done your chore and it is done now."

Ashley's musings had reached an end, and he was lying prostrate on the floor, sobbing, when India announced herself and gave Scarlett a brief embrace born out of reticent respect for the other woman whom she had so viciously slandered but now needed desperately.

India was accompanied by her white-haired Uncle Henry Hamilton, who was waving a sheet of paper, and nervous Aunt Pittypat, who despised being in the same room as her brother and was carrying her smelling salts in the event that the graceless savage said something to cause her to faint.

"He has to be committed. Watched. I'm afraid he's going to shoot himself and we can't have that," Henry was saying, his bearing soldierly.

"What about Beau, Uncle Henry?" India blinked up at him with her pale, lashless eyes. "He can go to Macon with Honey…"

"He can go with me," Scarlett said without thinking. "I'm here tonight to meet Prissy and my children and we're taking the evening train to New Orleans to meet Rhett."

If any of the Hamilton-Wilkes clan was surprised by her suggestion or her itinerary, they did not let on. There was a brief intermittent silence between them as Ashley continued to wail in his study.

India said somberly. "I caught him with a sheet about his neck. He said that asphyxiation would be a cruel way to die, but that he had helped hang a nigger once, and perhaps God would demand the same for him."

"He's lost!" Pitty groaned.

Henry, being of a practical mind, declared that Scarlett's idea made sense, that she should take Beau immediately from the house and that they would deal with Ashley quietly. "There's a state hospital in Milledgeville," Henry said.

"There's a nicer one in Macon," India countered. "A rest home, I think it's called. He'll be near Honey then, and I can visit every day until he's well."

With that, Henry shook hands with Scarlett and put in the word that he was glad that Charlie had had the sense to marry her and apologized for all of the trouble they had given her. But she just gazed down at the fallen form of Ashley. "Just take care of him," she said, "and I'll take good care of Beau."

**A/N: I WOULD BE MOST GRATEFUL FOR ANY AND ALL FEEDBACK. **


End file.
